


What Fears We Conquer

by technicallymilkshakes



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Angst, Aviophobia, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-01
Updated: 2019-02-01
Packaged: 2019-10-20 03:44:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17614805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/technicallymilkshakes/pseuds/technicallymilkshakes
Summary: They say that love can conquer anything.For Yixing, you would even challenge heaven.





	What Fears We Conquer

               After hours of ignoring Yixing staring at you in silence, you gave up and closed your computer. He didn’t even have the decency to look embarrassed when you stared back at him.

               “Yixing.”

               “Hm?”

               “Why are you staring at me?”

               He straightened up from where he had been hunched on the couch.

               “I was staring at you?”

               “Only for a few hours.”

               “Oh.”

               You spun in your chair.

               “What is it? What’s on your mind?”

               He stood up and walked over to you, grabbing your chair to stop you from spinning more. He hated watching you do that. It made him get second-hand nauseous. You were grateful he had stopped you. You had been starting to feel a bit dizzy, but you were determined not to stop until he got up off his bum and stopped brooding.

               He pointed to a post-it note on your desk. “What’s L10?”

               “Stop trying to change the subject. What’s wrong?”

               He pulled you up to your feet.

               “What are you doing next Friday?”

               “Next Friday?” Your eyes slid to the left and you thought for a moment. “I’ll be busy the entire day. But the rest of the weekend is fine. I’ll be here.” You spread your arms, gesturing to your living room-cum-office. “Why?”

               He looked crestfallen. You poked his nose.

               “Why?” you repeated.

               “Can’t you cancel?”

               You crossed your arms. “ _Why?_ ”

               He pulled out his puppy eyes. “Can’t you come to China with me for the concert? Please?” He took your hands in his and started jumping.

               You didn’t jump with him. “Yixing, you know I can’t.”

               His head lolled back as if he had lost all strength to support it with his neck. Then he snapped back up, startling you, his gaze more determined.

               “It’s just once. One time. We can take the same flight. I’ll make sure you’re not scared.” He tried his signature smile on you. “I’m really good at distracting people.”

               You shook your head, removing your hands from his grip. “Maybe that would have worked,” you said wistfully. “But you know your fans would eat  _both_ of us up alive if we did that. I won’t let them do that to you.”

               He ran a hand through his hair. “I’m talking about you, not about them. Can’t you do this for me?” he begged. “My family will be there. It will be the first time for you to meet them.”

               “That’s not fair.”

               You were irked and a bit upset with him. Yixing had been asking you for months to come to this concert. You knew it would mean the world to him and your heart craved to oblige. But you had already given him your answer. And now he was springing his family on you.  

               “You know I’m afraid of flying,” you whispered. Your eyes watered in frustration both with him over his insistence and at yourself for how the mere thought of flying made you feel faint.

               You saw him give in. His eyes lost that determined look and his mouth softened. He nodded as if this was what he expected and that upset you more than anything else. You had let him down.

               He kissed your cheek.

               “I understand.”

* * *

               “Are you sure I can’t change your mind?”

               It was still early in the morning. You were wearing the same oversized t-shirt and shorts you had worn to bed. You wrapped your arms around yourself. The house was chilly.

               He had stopped by one last time before his flight. His manager was waiting outside for him in the car with all of their suitcases. His flight was in a couple of hours.

               “I wish you could.” And truly you did. It would make things so much easier.

               Instead, the two of you began your pre-departure ritual. After so many goodbyes, it had manifested by itself. He had finished the last of his Korean concerts and was heading back to China to wrap up the last leg of his tour.

               He pulled you into his arms and you squeezed him until he huffed a breathless laugh. Wiggling out of your grasp, he kissed your forehead and then each of you pinched each other’s cheeks as hard as you could. Any tears would be ones of pain.

               “You know how I feel about you, right?”

               You nodded. That’s what he always said.

               “And you know that I feel the same way, don’t you?”

               That’s how you always responded.

               Each of you relinquished your grasps and kissed the red marks on the other’s cheeks.

               “I’ll see you before you even realize you missed me,” he said.

               “I doubt it.”

               Before he made it to the door, he remembered something and turned around.

               “But if you change your mind, the offer’s still open! Will Call will have your ticket. It’s under your name. Or you can call me or my manager–”

               “Go!” You grabbed a pillow and threw it at him and laughing while under siege, he left.

* * *

               The concert had been magnificent. It was Yixing’s first solo tour and it had broken attendance records multiple times. His final show had been no exception. Every single seat was full. Except one. It was right next to where his family was sitting. He tried not to focus on it too much, but part of him couldn’t give up on the hope that maybe you had gone to the bathroom, maybe you had gone to purchase merchandise, maybe you were just late.

               He raced back to his dressing room so that he could recompose himself and change before meeting with some of his fans.

               “Did Firecracker come?” he asked his manager. Firecracker was the code name the two referred to you by so they could speak of you in front of others without worrying whether your relationship would go public.

               The manager shook his head.

               Yixing sighed and plopped down into the chair awaiting him as stylists descended upon him. They worked on eviscerating his sweat. They wiped off his stage make-up and set to work building a whole new, more approachable image to greet the fans with.

               While he was getting his hair styled, he picked up his phone. He had 6 unread messages from “Firecracker.” The most recent one was sent 23 minutes ago. He scrolled to the first one you sent.

                _The sky is so pretty_

               He smiled. You were always sending him pictures of the sky. He liked to tease that you could see the sky so much better from up in the air and you pointed out to him that sometimes the best vantage point is from afar. And then he would complain that he would never be able to sweep you off your feet if you were so firmly stuck to the ground.

               The next one was a multimedia message. You had sent a picture of what looked like a plaque. It was gold and on it was written L10.

               Unsure what to make of it, he scrolled down.  

               You had taken a picture of yourself. It was dark in the room and you were surrounded by other people, although he couldn’t see any of their faces. It almost looked like you were at a movie theater.

               Another picture. This one was blurry, but it was definitely a picture of him. Not only was it a picture of Yixing, however, it was a picture of him on stage. At the concert that had just ended. His shirt was open and his head was thrown back. Underneath you had written a little caption:

                _I’m impressed._

               Yixing sat up and waved away the stylist trying to do his make-up.

               The penultimate message was a video. It was loud and there was a lot of screaming. You were filming yourself and lip-syncing to the same song along with thousands of fans.

               “ _Time is slowly slipping away bit by bit_ __  
Everything I do for you may not be enough  
               Still I struggle to hold you tight  
               There’s no way anyone will be able to replace, just like our promise”

               You flipped back and forth between recording yourself and Yixing playing “Promise” on the piano.

               The last text read simply:

                _I’m glad I came._

He knew you weren’t one for sentimental comments or romancing. This past year and a half had been full of frustrations for him. He  _felt_ so much, but he had restrained himself, constantly, constantly. For your sake, he told himself. He didn’t want to scare you off. Enough things were scary about being in a relationship with someone like him without adding to the burden. But to see you pushing yourself so hard for him, his heart was full to bursting. It had never hurt so much, the way he could feel his muscles contract with each heartbeat, the way his skin vibrated at the thought of you. He wondered at his heart’s ability to discover an emotion his head had known for a long time.

               Yixing began composing a new text message, trying to lean out of the reach of the make-up artist dabbing at his eyes.

                _Where are you???  
               Come back stage! I want to see you_

He gave in to the make-up artist while he waited.

               His phone  _ping!_ -ed a moment later.

               [Firecracker]  _I can’t._

[Yixing]  _Why??_

[Firecracker] _I’ve got a flight to catch._ ✈ ✈  _: (_

[Yixing]  _Ah? You flew all the way here and you’re flying back without even letting me see you?_

[F]  _Surprise!_

               [Y]  _Why didn’t you sit in the seat I saved for you?_

[F] _You think a ticket to your COMPLETELY SOLD OUT show somehow just fell into my lap?_

_Remember that post-it note you found on my desk?_

_I planned this months ago!_

               The stylists fought for his attention while you explained your rationale. You thought you’d lose your nerve, so you booked the flights as close together as possible. As for not using the seat he saved, you wanted the first time you met his family to be a meaningful exchange, not a quick introduction and a dash out the door.

               [F]  _Tell them I said I’m sorry._

               [Y]  _No need. As long as you promise me something._

               [F]  _What?_

               [Y]  _Promise me you’ll stay next time._

               [F]  _Haha! Of course._

                _I promise._

               [Y]  _Good. Because I have something to tell you then._

_I have to go now!_

_I’ll see you soon._  😘

* * *

               Somehow, fans were already gathered despite his unexpected arrival. Yixing rushed through the terminal, flanked by security guards and his manager and other staff members. So many cries of “Yixing” went up, hands reached out to be touched, but they were all ignored. Yixing walked, head down, with a singular purpose.

               Movement forward was slow. The airport, unlike these fans, hadn’t had sufficient notice to prepare. The pace was stifling. Free of any luggage, Yixing slipped forward in the little bubble that existed around him and then broke through, pushing past his protectors. Immediately, hands descended upon him, voices squealed in his ear, cameras went off in his face, but he ripped his way through until he made it out to the taxi stand.

               There were far fewer fans outside. Most of them had high performance cameras that they hadn’t wanted to risk getting damaged in all the tumult. They scrambled to photograph him.

               He strode to the first taxi and got in, locking the door behind him.

               “To University Hospital,” he said before the driver could ask. “Please hurry.”

               “YIXING!” He heard a pounding on the window as the car started to move away, but he ignored it. What his manager had to say right now wasn’t important.

               He had been in the middle of a fan meeting in Shanghai. His manager came up on stage and he remembered thinking that was strange. Normally other staff members came and helped him out during these events.

               “Firecracker’s been in a car accident. It’s bad. You need to go.” He grabbed Yixing under the armpit and started to lead him off stage. Still not comprehending what was happening, he tried to pull back. The fans in the crowd started getting restless. This time, the manager slung an arm around his shoulders.        

               “We need to go. Right now,” he reiterated, and finally Yixing’s legs began to cooperate. The host of the event rushed back on stage and started making his apologies to placate the audience. There was a car already waiting. Everything had been prepared without him knowing. He felt a distant part of himself get angry that he wasn’t told  _immediately,_ as soon as they heard word. They had had enough time to prepare this all, and hopefully for their sakes’ no more than that.

               His manager had had to take away his phone. Yixing kept trying to call you, but his manager told him that you wouldn’t, that you couldn’t pick it up. He only wanted to hear one word from you that would shatter the grey his world had been thrown into. Unbidden, his own song lyrics came to mind and for once he hated what he had created.

               He hit the passenger side head rest in frustration, then slumped back into his seat.

               “Go faster,” he whimpered.

               A few moments passed in tense silence and then he caught the taxi driver watching him in the rear view mirror. When he caught his eye, the other man quickly looked away.

               “I’m sorry, I just…” Yixing stared down at his hand and made a first. “Just please, go as fast as you can.”

               Even though it couldn’t have been, the drive to the hospital felt as long as the plane ride into Korea. Yixing shoved a wad of bills, both Korean and Chinese currency, to the driver and then ran inside.

               They had to have a nurse lead him through the hospital to get to the room you had been placed in. When he arrived on the ward, the nurse sat him down in a little waiting area to grab the doctor.   Another eternity passed before she arrived. She tried to explain to him, as the claimed guardian of the patient, the extent of the damage, but he couldn’t understand. He watched her lips, trying to make sense of the foreign syllables coming out of her mouth, but everything seemed to spell a word he wanted to pretend he didn’t know.

               “We’ve stabilized her for the time being. She regained consciousness a little while ago, but she may drift in and out. She’s aware of what happened to her. Be gentle. We’re prepping for another surgery so you’ll only have a little bit of alone time. Although it may be difficult, it might be best to talk about the future. Be gentle.”

               Yixing only just managed the curb the impulse to slam the door in her face. Was that gentle enough for her? Only the thought of you stopped him.

               Your eyes were closed when he turned around. He was thankful for that. It embarrassed him, this premature grief. It embarrassed and enraged him. He gave himself exactly one minute to let his emotions run free before he rushed to capture all of them but one.

               He walked over to your bedside. He wanted to grab your hand, but he wasn’t sure if that would hurt you. It looked like anything he did would hurt you. So he stroked the unbroken skin on your hand.

               You opened your eyes.

               He saw behind the oxygen mask that you opened your mouth, but you lost the energy and closed both your eyes and your mouth.

               He waited for you.

               You tried again a minute later. He had to put his ear close to you to hear.

               “—xing..”

               “I’m here. I hear you.”

               “I was so brave today.”

               “You were.” His fingers brushed your fringe away.

               “They said I need another surgery.”

               His fingers stopped playing with your hair. He knew you were fighting with something.

               “But I feel fine, Yixing. I feel fine.”

               He looked at you, swaddled in bandages, enclosed by apparatuses of all kinds, and knew that you were nearly as far from it as you could be.

               “You know that I love you, right?” Tears were seeping from the corners of your eyes. He grabbed a tissue and started wiping them, making little shushing noises.

               “No! Don’t try to shush me.” You turned your head as much as you could.

               “You know I love you, right?” you asked again.

               He nodded.

               “Yixing…”

               A nurse came in then and checked the chart. She started fiddling with devices.

               “I’ll be back in a minute and then we’ll be just about ready to roll you into surgery.”

               She closed the door.

               “I want to hear you say it, Yixing.”

               He had shifted, leaning over you. His lips were pressed against your temple. As delicately as you could, you reached up with your least injured hand and grabbed him.

               “I need to hear you say it once.”

               “I’ll tell you after surgery. I promise. You just focus on keeping your own promise, okay? You remember?” He stroked your hair. “You have to stay. If you stay, I promise I’ll tell you.”

               “What if I can’t?” He heard you make a little gasp and felt your body tense. “What if I can’t keep that promise? Why can’t you just tell me? Please?”

               “You have to keep your promise. You’re going to wake up after surgery. And everything will be fine. You’ll recover. We’ll move in together. Later I’ll propose to you and you’ll pretend to think about it. But you’ll say yes in the end. And you’ll meet my parents and they’ll love you. We’ll get married and have children and live longer than we even dared hope. You just have to keep your promise.”

               He had pulled away so that he could look you in the eyes.

               “You forgot the happily ever after.”

               “Only if you keep your promise.”

               The nurse came back flanked with more nurses and doctors. They set to work immediately and in a moment, he knew you would be rolled from the room to a place out of his view.

               “You know I love you, right?” you whispered.

               He covered his eyes.

               “Right?”

               You could barely hear him reply, “And you know I love you, don’t you?”

               They shifted everything to the mobile unit. The anesthesia was kicking in and you could feel your eyes getting heavier.

               “I know. Don’t worry, Yixing.”

               They started wheeling you out of the room.

               “I’m not scared of flying anymore.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Crossposted from tumblr. If you're interested, you can follow me there [ @technicallymilkshakes](https://technicallymilkshakes.tumblr.com/%22)!


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